Before my ever dawning city of manifestated ignorance, I walk. I put my triumphant stride amongst the smaller dwellers of desk jobs, and enter my own tower. The image of Choice, as I have made, reflects upon the floor lining the way, as a red carpet to the elevator. I get in, and ride to the skyline.

Tuesday, March 12, 2013

The passion of burning

Date:
,

It was a question whether I had been eaten by some netherworld beneath my table, at the restaurant, or just had feinted a given time, to which I was not sure yet. Maybe I still had been sleeping in my office. For all I knew, I had to assume the worst. Total darkness was infront of my, but by the feels of everything, it was a small-shuttle like space, my person had been "moved" to. With a maximum capacity of 1 person, the claustrophobic nightmare resurfaced, burning in the deep sensation of the walls getting closer each second. Light froth tingled on the side of my lips, as the anxiety to get out heightened. I swallowed, and made one with the walls in a few breaths. To regain control, I had to think of numbers, of how unreal it would be that the walls around me could tighten even deeper against me than they already were. I breathed in a controlled manner, counting every exhalation, forcing out the thoughts of fear, mending in the thoughts of control.

This time I knew that my eyes stood as open as the day itself, much differentiating from the last night, where I had to feel before seeing.

I shimmer of light turned on to my left side. It was a number. Soon several numbers appeared to be lighting with a single one more distinguished from the others, by the means of a brighter light. They each were shaped in a perfect circle to fit a single digit number inside each of them. Now I knew I was in an unilluminated elevator at least. A tug of gravity and friction, caused a tinge in my body strong enough to tell that the lift had begun a descent into what I still did not know. Heat began emanating from all around me, the tinge of my body expanding to a pull of speed. The elevator was fast descending, fast enough to create such a strong heat, that my body began convulsing with sweat from every pore possible.

Light shifted quickly away from 2, as was the floor he had been on before, but instead of lighting up the first floor, the number 3 shone bright. I qiurked a brow patting every part of my body to ensure that it was not me that had gone to oddworld of oddities to collect the opposite day treats. But no I was not naked, and there wasn't anything inverse about the numbers. Still, the elevator kept moving downwards, that feeling I had for sure, and the numbers kept lighting upwards, that was the perceptive conclusion I had to make.

Behind me a small lamp blinked, only in a fashion a streetlight would be able to when isolated without friends on a dark alley. It came from behind me, and I spurned to let my attention drift from gravity, into something my mind could occupy itself with.

Oh and it was the piece of art, the castle, that had stood there the last time I was in the elevator, and from there a flicker of light, a flicker of a flare darted out towards me, in the living motion of fire. All the time it seemed as people moved, blocking out the light towards me causing that flicker which I had first noticed when I stood with my back against the painting.

Every time it grew dark, it was possible to see yet another light inside the castle. One that showed the banquet hall fully lit. It was empty at this time, but I had an idea that I hadn't been just a moment ago. A strange sensation of unease went through me, even worse than being trapped in this small room which should be an elevator, which moved down but up. Soon movement was seen outside the castle. Many lights were held the hands of the people moving out, though it was only in one of their two hands. The second almost always held torches. This fire they brought with them showed their faces, all horrible, all angry, all eyes of these, I could suddenly see. These held nothing but violence, wanted disorder, anarchy and destruction which could fall within everything I was against. All instincts shown to me, as the devil herself had taken a hold of them and led them to their innermost desire as men.

Suddenly every part of my world, as my eyes showed me, went dark.

In this moment I could watch as
the picture, which had caught my eye so many times today, had a real unreal
epic played out, with each of the chess pieces placed where they should be.
Mother Nature had been waiting for this hell to be unleashed inside the
painting of the dark ages. ‘no wonder it was called the dark ages’ I thought, looking closer at the picture, focusing on the closing people. They
were all jumping into the moor. A rebellion was
beginning as the fires did, turning the first silent scene of a castle, into a
roar of confusion and death.

Suddenly, some thoughts intruded on me, which had no origin in the mind I had been developing for long lasting years. There was laughter. A woman’s laughter, slowly beginning to synchronize with my thoughts, twisting
them.

They compelled my to start on my own into this tiny room, and with such force I began laughing, as the woman laughed in the back of my mind. This
laughter was in every way uncontrollable.

I smashed my hand at the
painting, and like the hand of god I at last broke through and took one of the
torches directly from the poor mob. With the laughter, as a begining of a parasite infestation, this woman who had controlled it, now had taken full control of my body. The torch with live fire she moved to my body, setting kindling a flame to my clothes.

In the midst of the fire
she, who was in me begun; I could feel the heat beginning to stick to my body.
What wasn’t organic clothing was sticking, melting into my skin to create a second skin. An acrid smell of burnt flesh, lightly roasted, with the sickening smell of plastic and weave stung to me in the air. Still I laughed, in no control of anything, but the registration of pain. I could not scream, could not move and neither was able to accept the pain I to which I felt. Suddenly in these unnatural hopeless circumstances my skin began taking the fire to it, fueling the fire even more, crisping my skin, eating it up as if no fluid existed inside it, but the liquid fuel to start fires. At this point I regained some control, but only enough to stop the laughter and scream, succumb to the pain my mind had registered already from the fire had been lit. Many minutes went by screaming my lungs out until there the rasp of the
throat culled my scream turning it into ash. An out of body experience
intervened in the pain, as I drifted to a third person point of view above my own body
crumbling beneath me. There was nothing left of the human envelope but the skin charred away, leaving juicy muscles unprotected, ready to detach themselves from bone. First the smooth muscles revealed the skeletal muscles and at last the greatest muscle was revealed. The largest muscle of the human body soon stopped beating, and after this everything went into darkness.

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I am a writer in fiction short stories both in danish and english. My danish works usually are much inspired by Myth and how the myth is composed, while my English I try to be inspired by metaphorical writing.